


Fire and the Flood

by Liquid_Lyrium



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heaven, M/M, Mesopotamia, Podfic Available, Pre-Relationship, The Flood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 12:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/pseuds/Liquid_Lyrium
Summary: Aziraphale cements his reputation as a poor excuse of an angel. Crawley helps.





	1. Salt Water

Aziraphale flinches at the first drop of rain. He doesn’t pull out his wings, not with this many mortals about. Not when he isn’t here for _ them_. That would be too cruel. He can feel demonic fury radiating off of Crawley in waves.

And maybe it’s because he can feel the echo of Eden in this place that his protective instincts are trying to choke him. _ Guardian of the Eastern Gate. Guardian of God’s most beloved creations. _Creations so beloved it caused a rift in Heaven.

Mud starts to pool around his sandals, sneaking in between his toes.

“It would be a shame,” Aziraphale says, his voice a low rasp, “if I were to lose here.”

Crawley looks at him like he’s grown a second head, and Aziraphale worries for a moment that his ethereal form has peeked through anyway. 

“I mean, with this downpour, and my responsibility to Noah and his family... It would be...” Aziraphale licks the inexplicably dry lips of his vessel, “...It would be so _ easy _ for a-a wily adversary to take advantage of my distraction.”

“Distraction?” Crawley’s brows are furrowed, not comprehending. Aziraphale feels a very un-angelic urge to strangle the serpent. “You don’t look very distracted to me.” Those yellow eyes narrow fractionally.

_ You idiot, I’m telling you I’d let you win! _

"Oh dear, look at that. My sandals are starting to sink into the mud. Why, I might be stuck here for _ ages _ trying to get out. I’m _ much _ too busy to go around thwarting anyone who wants to fly in the face of God’s Ineffable Plan.”

Comprehension finally dawns behind the demon's golden eyes, and he stares hard at Aziraphale, his jaw open. Something like alarm passes over his face, and then it settles into confusion again.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and tips his head up, water drumming down his cheeks. _ Let me give this victory to you because I can’t do it myself. Please, please Crawley... _ The angel is suddenly struck by how ridiculous it is to put his hopes—his _ prayers—_in a demon but he’s so _ angry _ Aziraphale can taste it on his tongue, he was so _ horrified _by the plan... surely... surely...

Aziraphale suddenly tastes salt, and he blinks through heavy eyes. _ It’s just rain_, he tells himself, chest of his corporation heaving unsteadily. He stares at Crawley with eyes that burn with salt instead of heavenly fire, desperate for a sign his faith will be rewarded.

He sees Crawley’s tongue dart between the seam of his lips. The demon lifts a hand, then draws it back, thinking better of it.

“Right,” the demon straightens his shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go undermine the Almighty’s plan. Very evil business to attend to.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t hear any of that over the storm,” Aziraphale says firmly, and thunder rumbles overhead loud and close enough to shake the insides of his vessel. The angel averts his gaze, pressing his fingertips together.

When he looks back he is alone, and his knees buckle underneath him. The sodden earth gives way and he sinks into the mud until it covers his thighs.

_ Thank you, Crawley. _

Aziraphale stays there longer than he needs to, until the mud and water are up to his chin and he hears the groan of the ark starting to float the first scant few inches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Crawley/Crowley seems slow on the uptake here, it's only because he's extremely suspicious that it's some sort of trick.


	2. Sink or Swim

Much later, Aziraphale isn’t sure if it’s forty days or a hundred and fifty, the angel is in Heaven in front of three archangels. Despite being completely dry and pristine in the heavenly halls, the sense of being muddy, shit-stained, and damp remains.

He’s not so much terrified of his failure, but that the archangels will somehow _ know. _Know that he prayed to Crawley instead of Her because the demon was the only one who would listen in that moment.

Michael speaks first. “So.. Aziraphale. Nice to see you weren’t discorporated in the flood.”

The principality gives a faint smile, “Oh, thank you. It was quite an awesome deluge-”

“You only just got that corporation. We don’t want you to go around wasting them,” Uriel interrupts. Michael nods primly.

Gabriel finally speaks, beaming a smile that doesn’t reach his violet eyes, “So, how was it in person? You’re lucky, you know, to witness Her power up close like that. It’s almost enough to make up for being stationed on Earth, isn’t it?”

Angels aren’t supposed to lie, but Aziraphale has managed the trick before. “It was... very, very mighty. I nearly got swept away myself.” Aziraphale stares at a point just above Gabriel’s shoulder. “Was quite awe-inspiring to see all that... sin... washed away.”

“Yes, about that...” Uriel cuts in smoothly. “How many humans did you see get washed away?” There’s something almost breathless about the question. Aziraphale gets the feeling that even though the Great Rebellion was in large part due to the favoritism shown to humans, not everyone has let bygones be bygones.

“Oh.. More than I could possibly count.” Aziraphale clasps his hands behind him. It’s another lie. He’d tallied each soul he felt snuffed out. It's a number that will stay etched upon his heart for the rest of eternity.

There’s the faintest hint of a smile on Uriel’s face. Michael just looks smug, and Gabriel’s beatific smile turns ever so slightly savage. Aziraphale has to remember the feeling of being stuck in the mud to keep himself from squirming.

“Well, we all know God doesn’t play favorites,” Gabriel chuckles to himself, and Aziraphale stares at him. _ Do you even know what goes on down on Earth!? She does nothing but! Saving a handful and leaving the rest to fend for themselves... and leaving the rest of the planet alone... _He stops those thoughts before he gets carried away Too Far.

“But Aziraphale,” Michael says, voice light and casual, “there were fewer souls than we anticipated coming through the Heavenly gates. A great deal fewer.”

“Have you an answer for that?” Uriel says, almost sounding bored, a golden brow raised and sparkling against dark skin.

“O-oh well.. humans are... very resourceful. Especially when their survival is at stake.”

“Please, human beings are _ so _simple. They can’t possibly stand up to the Almighty’s divine will!” Gabriel claps his hands together. “Now, you’ve been down there a while and it’s understandable that you would become... What’s the word?” He looks over at his two cohorts for assistance.

“Fond?” Michael suggests.

“Fond! Fond of humans, but you wouldn’t... go against the Plan, would you? You didn't... save a couple here and there?” Gabriel’s expression is smug and full of anticipation. Like he’s expecting Aziraphale to agree and go along without a fuss. Like this is all a formality.

“The missing souls have nothing to do with me, I assure you.” The words leave his mouth a little too quickly. After a moment he adds, “I am still _ here, _after all and not...” Aziraphale glances down at the floor, significantly.

Gabriel frowns for the barest second, but then he’s all smiles again. “Of course! Of course!”

“So it was the opposition then?” Michael raises a brow. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Aziraphale pretends to think about it for a moment. “Not sure really. I suppose it must be, if not the humans themselves. There’s ah.. at least one demon I know of on Earth. Crawley a, that wily serpent from the Garden. A real... thorn in my side. I suppose it... could have been him. Possibly.”

Gabriel appears to consider the matter. “Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. I wouldn’t put it past Hell to set aside their hatred for humans to spite the Almighty’s plans.” His perfect teeth are hidden by a thoughtful frown.

Aziraphale has a hollow feeling in his belly as he has a horrible thought that Hell might not be the only otherworldy force that doesn’t care about humans.

“But really, Aziraphale. You must do better in the future. First the Garden, and now this?” Michael’s chiding tone is airy, but it cuts through the principality all the same. Dread pools from his stomach all the way down to his toes.

“Y-yes, of course,” Aziraphale agrees meekly.

“How could you just _ let _ him get away with saving all those humans?” Uriel’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

“I-I suppose what with the torrential downpour and my assignment to Noah and his family and the ark... Well... I just.. didn’t realize.” He bites his lip, “The Almighty’s power _ is _ awfully impressive. Don’t think I would have been able to feel any demonic energy if it was right next to me, what with Her influence being in every drop of rain.”

Another lie.

The archangels digest his words in silence, glancing at one another uncertainly.

Aziraphale just wants this conversation to be over with. He's _tired_. He wants to go _ home_, but then he realizes that he _ is _ home, technically, which means that's a ridiculous thought. But he wants to be anywhere _ but _ here, and specifically he wants to be back on Earth.

He wonders where Crawley is right now. Maybe he’s getting a commendation for a job well done. Or did Hell only see the _ good _ in his deed and punish him? The angel bites the inside of his cheek. Concern for his enemy? He’d let Crawley win for the sake of the humans, but concern for a demon? That was… too much.

“Well,” Gabriel finally said, sounding almost sullen, “the Almighty’s power _ is _absolute. I suppose your failure is understandable.”

“You’ll have to work much harder from now on,” Uriel proclaimed, polishing already perfect fingernails.

Aziraphale just nodded, “Of course.”

“That will be all, Aziraphale.” Michael snaps. The blinding light of Heaven is gone and the principality feels soft grass beneath his feet.

His knees buckle again, and green immediately stains his robes. Aziraphale fists his hand into the grass and he looks up, and he can taste salt again as he beholds the rainbow in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has always been different. It just took him 6,000+ years to get enough courage to face that fact head on. I also like the idea that a lot of angels in Heaven still harbor some resentment over the whole 'Hey why are humans suddenly the favorites?' There were other reasons for the rebellion as well, but I think humanity creation/impending creation brought whatever issues were lurking to a boil/breaking point. Probably anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Vance Joy's "Fire and Flood." I wrote this just now in a single sitting when I was struck by the idea of Aziraphale solidifying his reputation as a not terribly effective angel and how Head Office formed their Opinions about him.
> 
> It's not quite The Arrangement, but it's something that Aziraphale willingly takes the L.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Fire and the Flood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210977) by [Liquid_Lyrium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/pseuds/Liquid_Lyrium)


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